


Fracture

by projectoverlord



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Emotional Attachment, Feelings, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 20:37:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1524773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/projectoverlord/pseuds/projectoverlord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-show. A look into how Ward and Garrett used to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fracture

**Author's Note:**

> This is set about ten years prior to Agents of SHIELD, when Ward is in his mid-twenties. It started as something brief and hot but it became a journey filled with feelings and a fluff, and I find that I don't mind that so much.
> 
> Dedicated to a friend who can't read Shatter, because nobody likes spoilers.

"Mickey Atanabe." Grant reads the rest of the file in silence, sitting in a car next to John. "We're getting sent in after mafia wannabes now?"

 

Garrett chuckles. "Atanabe's been a blip on SHIELD's radar since long before his attempts at being a mob boss. They caught wind of him when he was just a kid. Something to do with low-level empathic abilities."

 

"How low-level?" He skims through to that part of the file, and hums as he reads. " _Ability to sense emotions, also skilled in heightening existing emotions._ So this is a terrible idea."

 

"Not if the guy doesn't tweak we're SHIELD agents," Garrett replies, grinning like a shark. "We go in, we stick to the story they give us, and we grab the guy and get out. Once we take him out, there's nothing but a few goons to subdue on our way out the door."

 

Grant sighs. "Yeah, like SHIELD ops ever go by the book."

 

"And what has your panties in a bunch today, sweetheart?"

 

He glares at the older man, but Garrett just laughs and squeezes his shoulder. Grant takes a deliberately deep breath and lets the tension roll out of his body. This is a two-man mission, he needs to be at his best if he's going to cover his own ass and Garrett's.

 

Part of him wants to tell his SO that he hasn't been sleeping well. But that would mean telling him why.

 

So he takes a second deep breath, and he forces himself to focus. Garrett's hand is still on his shoulder, and he focuses on that contact. Allows it to ground him.

 

"Let's get this over with."

 

They've been given an in via a SHIELD operative on deep cover in a similar operation, and Atanabe's goons let them straight in the front door. Grant's been scruffed up a little to blend in, after numerous complaints (primarily by Garrett) that he was far too pretty-boy to pass as a hired hand. His hair is haphazard, and he's sporting a nice shadow of stubble.

 

Garrett is just being his usual charming self.

 

* * *

 

 

Atanabe is a pretty harmless looking guy, at first glance. Maybe a little meaner looking than the picture in his file, but certainly not mob boss material. SHIELD is worried about shadows these days, if they think this guy is gonna do anything but get himself killed. Ward almost laughs in his face.

 

The mob-boss wannabe also, apparently, has some serious trust issues. He doesn't let them within a five metre radius of himself, and there are too many guys around him. They have to be close enough to hit him with the delivery system device tucked in Garrett's back pocket. It looks like a lighter, but it has just the right cocktail of chemicals to knock out Atanabe and disable his empathy for a good long while. They just have to be within arm's length to use the damn thing.

 

This might take a bit longer than they expected.

 

 _In and out_ , Grant thinks sarcastically, _like that ever happens_.

 

Garrett talks like a proper charmer, and secures their places. They get directed to quarters where they'll be staying - sharing the room with a particularly menacing looking guy. Garrett throws down his stuff and lounges back with a broad grin. For the moment they have the room to themselves, and a quick sweep reveals there are no listening devices, only a ratty old video surveillance camera in the corner.

 

For now they have the room to themselves, and they're instructed to be in the main courtyard in an hour's time.

 

Absently, Garrett scratches his ear. "Well, that went okay."

 

Grant rolls his eyes. "Yeah, it went great. How long do you think we're gonna be sharing a room with Rambo?"

 

"Want me all to yourself?" Garrett jokes.

 

A particularly irritated glare is the only response. Ward has to admit, though, he does want Garrett all to himself.

 

There's a lot of things he can't have. His SO is one of those things.

 

* * *

 

When they arrive at the courtyard, Rambo grips Garrett's shoulder and leads him away. Grant plays it cool, but he's on high alert as another man leads him back out of the courtyard. Something doesn't feel right. Garrett's quick over-shoulder glance only confirms that they're both thinking the same thing.

 

"Where are we off to, boys?"

 

"Atanabe wants to see you. Don't worry, newbie, we all got the same treatment our first day," his guide says with a grim smile.

 

Atanabe is indeed waiting for him. He circles Ward, who keeps his emotions perfectly schooled. "You have quite the reputation, Mr Tanner."

 

He, wisely, chooses to say nothing.

 

After circling him for a moment longer, Atanabe retires to his chair and steeples his hands. He chuckles, then waves his hand. "Back to his room."

 

"That's it?" Ward says to his guide as soon as they're out of the room.

 

The man chortles. "Yeah, sure. That's it." But as they arrive at Ward's temporary room, he adds, "For now."

 

Garrett is sitting on the bed, conversing with Rambo, but he looks up in interest as Grant is unceremoniously shoved into the room.

 

"Have fun with the boss?" Rambo asks.

 

There's a searching look in Garrett's eyes, one that silently questions whether Grant is hurt or in need of assistance.

 

Grant reels, grasping the wall, as a flare of _need want must have_ shoots through him. Garrett leaps up and grabs him by the shoulders, helping him to stand. "What is it?"

 

"Eh, don't worry about him," Rambo says, laughing heartily. "It's the boss' favourite way to initiate the new recruits. Make 'em feel things just that bit stronger. Weeds out the aggressive bastards who would cause trouble for the rest of us."

 

" _Hey_ ," Garrett snaps, gently tapping Ward's face, "can you handle this?"

 

Ward flushes under the contact. Every place that John touches him sears red hot. He reels again, and is helped onto the bed by his SO and Rambo.

 

"Just leave him to it, mate. They either lose it or they make it."

 

Shrugging off the guard's heavy touch, Grant leans into Garrett. Just the smell of him drives Ward crazy. There is a mark of serious concern in the older man's eyes, and he's about to pull the plug on the whole thing when Ward lurches at him, kissing him furiously.

 

"Aw geez," Rambo says, shielding his eyes. "Give a guy some warning."

 

He makes a beeline for the door, muttering something about _if you'd just mentioned you were fucking. Christ._

 

Garrett pushes him off, studying his face. "Take it easy. This is just Atanabe, fucking with your head."

 

"He fucking with yours too?" Grant retorts, sounding like someone has dragged his vocal cords over sandpaper. He runs a hand down Garrett's abdomen and hooks his fingers through belt loops. "You're just as hard as me, _sir_."

 

"It's been a while," Garrett jokes, easily disentangling them. He forces Grant down onto the bed, an action that makes Ward even more desperate. He wants the older man to take control. But all that happens is that he is left alone on the bed, while John retreats to the opposite side of the room. "Sleep it off."

 

"Don't want to sleep it off," he half-shouts, anger rearing against the rejection. "Do you want to fuck me or not?"

 

The look in Garrett's eyes suggests he'd rather break Ward's nose, right this second, but all he does is flip open a book and start reading.

 

 _Fine_ , Ward thinks, equal parts outrage and lust, as he yanks off his belt and undoes his pants.

 

" _Ward_ ," Garrett warns, but he doesn't take his eyes off the younger man.

 

Grant doesn't so much as blink in his determination, keeping his eyes firmly fixed with Garrett's as he palms himself.

 

"Damnit, there's a security camera up there. Keep it in your pants. _That's an order, Agent Ward_."

 

"You keep giving me orders and we're gonna have even more of a problem," Grant bites back, but he obeys. The thought of any number of Atanabe's goons watching him wank is less than appealing.

 

He settles for glaring at Garrett instead. John just ignores him, serenely turning the pages of his book.

 

A few minutes later, the guy who had taken Ward to Atanabe returns for Garrett. The hint of panic that crosses Garrett's face is masked swiftly, but not so swiftly that Ward doesn't see it. It sends a thrill down his spine to think that maybe, just maybe, Garrett will be returned to him equally out of his mind.

 

"You, they want to see you in the courtyard," the guide says before he disappears with Garrett.

 

Ward follows the winding hallways until he emerges into the light of the courtyard. There are eight men waiting there for him, and a red light blinks on his mind.

 

The blow catches him in the back of the neck, and he goes down on his knees.

 

Rambo, strangely, is shouting at one of them that it's wrong. But he is outnumbered, and with one last look at Ward he disappears down the hallway, dragged away by two guys.

 

A stranger leans down, looks Grant in the eyes, and says, "You take it up the ass, princess, or does he?"

 

Anger spears through him like a physical being. He throws his head back. Behind him, the sound of a nose breaking fills the air. Freed of the hold, he goes for the stranger with a vengeance, nearly succeeding in breaking the guy's neck before a taser hits him in the side. Two stronger men grab his wrists and force him down.

 

Those two keep him in place while the stranger kicks him in the stomach. Someone spits at his feet, another in his face. The punches keep coming.

 

He tries to get away - tries to use any of the numerous tactics SHIELD taught him - but there are too many, and his senses are overwhelming him. Anger, pain, fear, all blending together until he can hardly remember his own name.

 

But if Ward is angry, Garrett is _fury_. He appears in the entranceway at the moment another wad of spit catches Ward on the cheek. Within half a second Garrett's disabled two of the attackers, and he's about to take down another. Ward catches a quick glimpse of his SO's face, and the rage that covers it. His eyes are nearly black, and he swings at the man about to knife him in the spine. In a single move he gets the knife and slashes it across the attacker's throat.

 

The two of them holding Ward in place abandon their prey to assist the others. Ward catches one of them from behind and sends him to the ground with a kick to the back of the knees. His head is spinning, his body aching.

 

"Atanabe?" he questions.

 

Garrett laughs, and buries the blade hilt-deep in the throat of the one who'd spat in Ward's face. "Bastard's drooling on the floor."

 

Ward struggles to his feet, looking at the mess of half-dead, beaten bodies around their feet.

 

"Did he...is this you, or is it just him fucking with your head?" He's never seen Garrett this angry. _Ever_.

 

Without answering, Garrett leaves the courtyard. Ward, painfully, struggles to keep up with him. When he reaches their room, his SO is on the phone with SHIELD, requesting cleanup and pickup.

 

"That was three hours more than I wanted to spend in this dump," Garrett mutters as he shoulders his bags and Ward's. "Let's go."

 

* * *

 

After debriefing at the Hub and getting Ward patched up and doped up, the two of them are sent straight to a safe house in DC to await orders for their next mission.

 

Garrett lounges back with a glass of whiskey and his book. Ward sits impatiently behind a laptop, writing his mission report (which is pick and choose as to what he actually mentions happening.) He finishes up, skims it, and sends it.

 

Thinking about the day, thinking about Garrett, just makes him feel even more confused. Atanabe's abilities don't make you feel anything but what you _already_ felt, and Garrett knows that. So if his feelings were reciprocated, _why_ is nothing happening between them? The older man has never had a problem breaking rules before now - never had a problem being utterly ruthless.

 

Maybe Ward really had misread the signs.

 

But getting turned on by a guy jumping you is one thing - brutally beating five people for laying a hand on that guy is something entirely different. Garrett wouldn't do that unless he was _pissed_.

 

And he wouldn't be that furious if he didn't care.

 

"You should rest up," Garrett says without looking up from his book. "You could use it after today."

 

Wordlessly, Grant walks into the bedroom and slams the door behind him. He's barely slept in a week, and today's events are hardly going to make it any easier.

 

* * *

 

Four hours later, long after dark has blanketed the sky, Ward throws off the covers and savours the play of the breeze across his bare skin. He's had two showers and he can still feel the blood and dirt, as though it has soaked into his pores.

 

The door opens gently, and the light from the other room silhouettes John. He shuts it again, quietly, and as he seems to have assumed Grant is asleep the younger man does nothing to dispel the theory. He lies there, watching Garrett shrug out of his ridiculous turtleneck.

 

"I know you're not asleep," he says into the darkness, voice quiet. "You haven't been sleeping much at all these past few days."

 

"Didn't think you knew that."

 

"Yeah, well, I'm more observant than you give me credit for."

 

"If you're so observant why don't you see that I'm genuine about this?"

 

"Grant."

 

Ward's eyes snap up. For Garrett to use his first name is rare. It means something.

 

The older man sighs, rubbing a hand through his hair.

 

"Tell me what it is," Grant says, rolling onto his side with great difficulty. He studies the agent, or at least what he can make out of Garrett's face in the dim moonlight. "What bothers you about this?"

 

" _This_ is a bad idea."

 

"Thought that's what we're good at."

 

"Not this time," Garrett says, voice almost a whisper. Ward struggles to sit up, and then crosses the room.

 

Garrett is sitting on the other bed, and Grant touches his bare skin, focusing on the mottled scar from the burn. John catches his hand and holds it in place, growling out another sigh that sounds like giving up the fight.

 

Gently, Grant pushes him back onto the bed, following closely. Garrett's hands come up, anchor on his waist, holding him steady and preventing him from straining his injured torso.

 

"Aw, hell," he murmurs, already surging up. He finds Ward's lips in the darkness and ravishes them. Lets go of all the reservations and gives in to the kiss. It's _intoxicating_. All the tension melts out of them both.

 

Grant moves to the older man's belt, but sturdy hands stop him. "You're injured, action man. But don't worry, we got plenty of time. And I plan to take my time with you."

 

He manoeuvres Ward until he is lying on the bed. Then, gently, Garrett positions himself next to the younger man, wrapping a strong arm around him. Heated breath falls on Grant's shoulder, and the faintest touch of lips follows.

 

"Go to sleep."

 

* * *

 

Despite what every romance novel ever says, Grant doesn't sleep like a baby. He gets a few hours, if that. The night terrors refuse to abate, and he wakes breathless. A thin layer of sweat coats his forehead.

 

Garrett stirs, mumbles, "You need anything?"

 

"Go back to sleep," Grant replies, "I'm fine."

 

"Don't believe that for a second," John replies, but he rolls over and curls up under the covers.

 

Ward eats, sitting on the floor with the TV playing quietly in the background. Anything to quieten the night terrors still echoing in his thoughts.

 

A few hours pass, and light begins to spill over the horizon. The shower comes on in the next room, and Garrett's head pops out. "Anything from SHIELD?"

 

"Nothing."

 

"Good. Get in here."

 

Ward raises an eyebrow, but John's already disappeared from the doorway. Rising to his feet, he pads into the bathroom. Steam has already started to fill the room, but not so thickly that he can't see Garrett stepping into the shower. Hovering on the other side of the room, he admires the view for a lingering moment.

 

"Water'll go cold," Garrett says lightly, brushing a damp hand through his hair.

 

He slips out of his pants and steps under the water. John runs a hand along the numerous bruises on the younger man's sides. Grant watches the gentle touch, then lifts his eyes to Garrett's face. What he finds there is a poorly masked remnant of the fury that had been in those eyes the day before.

 

"Shouldn't have left you on your own," Garrett growls.

 

"I can handle a few bruises," Grant replies, his fingers dancing over the other man's hand. "We got the job done."

 

Suddenly, Garrett is crowding him against the cool tiles, kissing him thoroughly. They move in harmony, pressed together under the warmth of the water. And when John brushes just a little harder across those bruises, it takes Grant's breath away. He keens into the touch, hissing against his SO's lips.

 

"Like that?"

 

He nods.

 

"Guess I'll have to make my own," Garrett growls, fingers pressing hard against his hips.

 

" _Fuck_ ," Ward manages, his skin flushing a delightful shade of red.

 

"Shoulda known you'd like getting marked."

 

Then Garrett presses against his hips, simultaneously sucking a bruise against the younger man's throat. Grant comes. His voice is wrecked, but he lets out the loveliest noises. A second later Garrett growls and crowds them into the wall, body trembling in the wake of his own orgasm.

 

* * *

 

As they're dressing, having cleaned up and finished their shower, the laptop beeps insistently.

 

"You check it," Garrett says, turning to the mirror and slipping on a sweater. Grant leaves him to his routine of covering the various scars, wondering if he shouldn't borrow one of those turtlenecks to cover the brutal marks John's left him with.

 

One of his hands comes up and presses against the bruise. Garrett sees the action in the mirror and smirks, "Cover that up and I'll give you one you can't hide."

 

" _Yes_   _sir_ ," he teases, seeing the way it darkens the older man's eyes.

 

Reaching the laptop, he sits and taps in a few codes to grant clearance to the SHIELD transmission. Skimming the mission outline, he calls out, "Escort mission for a SHIELD high-up."

 

"My favourite," Garrett says sarcastically, leaning over Ward's shoulder to read the mission report. "Get packed up. The sooner we get this over with the better."

 

* * *

 

"How is it that following a guy from Point A to Point B can be even more boring than it sounds?" Grant mutters as the safe house computer recognises and identifies him.

 

"Hell if I know." Garrett slams the door behind them, peering at the clock. "At least it was only a few hours."

 

"Yeah," Garrett says, dropping his bag and pulling Ward down onto his lap. "We've got half a day to pass. Got any ideas?"

 

Fingers slide onto the bare skin of his sides. When he takes the hint and pulls off his shirt, John fits his hands over the bruises on the younger man's hips. Ward kisses him desperately, needing more contact, more of that taste, that feeling. They pause only so Garrett can remove his shirt, and then they're kissing again.

 

Grant's fingers play over every scar, every mark. Over the warm side of his SO's abdomen, and the ice cold side. There's a canvas laid out before him, painted with the memories of every bullet, every burn, every cut.

 

It occurs to him, suddenly, like all the world coming clear around him. He pulls back from John and frowns. "You think this is just about sex."

 

"What the hell are you talking about?"

 

He tries to kiss Grant again, but is stopped. "No, that's what it's about. You think I just want to fuck you. This whole thing about taking your time and sleeping with me. You were worried I just wanted to have your body."

 

It's clear to him now, how it must have looked to Garrett. He knows that there are feelings involved in all this, but all Garrett knows is Ward suddenly started trying to climb him like a tree.

 

 _Observant, my ass_ , Grant thinks to himself.

 

"You saying you _don't_ want my body?" Garrett says, half-joking, looking down pointedly.

 

"This isn't just about sex for me."

 

The fact that Garrett looks so surprised says so much more than words. Most important of all, it says it isn't just about sex for him either.

 

"You're an idiot," Ward says, and kisses him.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Grant wakes from peaceful sleep. A glance at the clock confirms that it has only been five hours since he laid down. But even that is an improvement, though small. Things are getting better. He rolls over, studying John's face as he sleeps. _Time_. That's all he needs. Time to let the nightmares fade. And they will, one day.

 

There's a hand resting comfortably on his waist. He knows the slightest movement away from Garrett will wake the agent. It's okay, though - he doesn't mind staying put. Curling a little closer, he lets the warmth from his bare skin soak into the cool side of John's torso. The grip on his waist tightens almost imperceptibly.

 

For a while he just lies there, staring out the window at the bustling city. Dawn is not yet come, but the city has started to wake up long ago. He finds this pleasant, watching the world and letting its tranquility flow through him. Dawn may rise in time, and hasten away the shadows, but for now he can pretend that things will always be this way.

 

Thinking back, he remembers something that the older man said about taking his time. A smile plays at his lips. At that moment, Garrett stirs, eyes opening and studying Grant. He touches the older man's hand, twining their fingers together.

 

"I'll take my time with you too," Ward whispers, and kisses him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
